Sweet Dreams Are made Of
by Suga Bee
Summary: Adrian is a rich artist whose only desire is to paint down Rose's every move. But as she agrees to model for him, will he find that maybe there is more to her than he's ever dreamed of?
1. Come to me, Angel

**I usually only write Hetalia Fanfics, but this has been playing on me since I read the last book and Adrian and Rose's relationship was murdered compleatly.**

**I HATE how she ended up with Dimitri. I don't believe it. Adrian is obviously the better choice. :) **

**So here's a little story. I might keep going, it might end here, all depends on how you guys like it. :]**

**So please feel free to comment how ever you would like! And enjoy! **

**BTW, I do not own the characters, and any sentences which may sound like song lyrics, comlpeatly is owned by whoever wrote them first, not me. :) There's only one, but still I must give everyone credit. **

There was a swipe of a paintbrush in the night, something loud in comparison of the cool silence which rang out through the empty room, a world in itself. He held his hand steady and waiting, cautiously biting his lip as he mused, thoughts stumbling over each other as they all clashed inside his mind, the colors pulsing in his memory of what he was painting, fading into pastels or different shades as he tried to sort out what he wanted.

"Blue...maybe green?" the words echoed now as his paintbrush went silent, complete composure ruining as he threw the utensil's fine tip diving into the black paint and with jagged strokes he blackened his picture, the colors mixing vilely and running as he then ripped the entire paper in half, tearing the night open as well as morning just started to spill into his windows.

With a defeated sigh and a choking sob he fell to his knees and vainly wiped back tears as he fought the inevitable thought that he wasted another night. And like the ones before, he had started with an idea, sanity, a love for his model, and for his profession, only to end with twisted deliberation, a broken heart, and hating every single part of his artistry life and the madness which engulfed him with the sun.

**-The next morning-**

The rain drops were dancing little feet of pitter patter outside his door, the old grandfather clock slow and monotonous as he heard another announcement of a passing hour. "One, two, three..." he had a habit of counting the tolling as if to make sure he was in the right time, that maybe he had only been thinking too much, and no hour had gone by. "...five, six, seven." and silence pooled in as he released a sigh, no promise held, no lies told as the worn and weathered face showed it to be seven o'clock. Monday? Was this a Monday? His eyes dragged up to the calendar without moving his pretty face from the shelter of his drawn up knees, and licking his lips, the truth was honestly stated in small script. Tuesday, had he really stayed up that long? Days sometimes had a habit of melting together into hurtful moments, all his actions wrapped up in tight, drawstring breaths. As if each blink was a new hour, and even the old grandfather clock was becoming a nescience. Once or twice he thought the little black hands were moving too fast, or the pendulum needed tuning, that the whole thing was broken.

But he knew better than to think that.

Everything in his house was perfect and impeccable, from the golden tassels on the Turkish rugs to the heavily carved frames, each was drenched with a luxurious price tag, though he never thought to look. It got to the point that money just was, there was no end, it just came and came, and if he saw a portrait or chair, center piece or new cell phone, he obtained it with no problem, no questions asked.

Either way, life had turned to a point that passing minutes scathed by without glorification and money had glutted itself in the artists pockets until he was weighed down from society.

The only thing his money had not won was the model, that beautiful woman who had given her body to him for reference. And looking up now to another blank canvas he imagined her here again, curves and sways of thick brush strokes. Her hair was threaded oak and cherry, eyes like two hard flowers, thorns on her lips as she gave a signature smirk. With a deep breath he pressed brush to paint and he remembered her every movement suddenly.

**-The Day Before-**

"So what do I do? Just pose?" Her voice was a little wary of what was going on, and how the whole situation had unfolded so fast.

"Umhm, just take your pick. I don't care if you sit or stand. I just like you. I'll take whatever you have to offer." Rose's ears throbbed as he spoke, wondering if this job was worth the money he was willing to pay. Adrian had caught her in the middle of her training, his eyes swiftly following her every movement, and never leaving her as he scribbled something down. He had later told her she had something that most models didn't have, though not even he knew what it was.

'You just have something...' he told her, taking her hand and leading her to his studio. 'Just one picture, that's all I want. All of you, still and caught in the moment, mine.'

She rolled her shoulders back, the smooth muscle tensing as she did so, skin like sun kissed gold, warm and almost lightly freckled. She took stance, feet spread a little apart, face upturned toward the hanging chandelier, the lights playing nicely on her fox like eyes and suddenly melting gaze.

His sketching pen went to work as he arched each line and took her main features down, though his eye was so hooked on her littlest details. The caramel etching in her hair at the roots, the simple rounded fingernails, lips glossed as she smiled in a grin sort of way, dropping her pose.

"I can't do this." her voice was breathy and tired already.

"Then rest, sit, I don't care, I just know that I need you in a picture. Just once, please." Adrian was almost desperate for her to stay, to want to stay here.

With a small smile she found a nice couch and laid down, enjoying the feel of soft cushions and marveling at the colors in the rectangles and geometric pattern. Again he set to immediate work, getting the basic posture, leg raised up and foot tucked beneath her, her whole body leaning over the arm rest to touch a simple lamp beside the coffee table. He looked up to get her features, and again she had switched, now her legs draped over the back of the sofa, hair unbound and flowing to the ground as she supported herself on strong arms. With the rushed flip of a page he started again, pencil quick to get down the twist and curl to her body, her effortless strength, but just as he had gotten down the basic pattern, he heard the leather shifting beneath her weight and with a glance up he saw her moving again, trying to get comfortable.

"Rose," he smiled through his mental scorn, reminding himself that this was a once in a life time chance, and if he tried to rope her in with too many rules she might leave. 'Let her be,' he baded to himself, lounging against the brick fireplace as he watched her reposition herself again, his pen held over the paper in a hovering motion, eager to capture her but just when his inspiration was sparked she would roll over restlessly, hair brushed back over her forehead, shirt sleeve barely ruffled as it fell from her shoulder. But this took patience and time, if he started sketching now, he's miss something, she'd move, he had to wait. But as he did, time never seemed to move so slowly. It was always like that when she was around, time just stood still for her as if she was the controller of the sands. "Rose!" Adrian rose his voice a little this time, bringing her out of whatever thought process she was in, her legs falling forward as she rolled off the couch.

"Sorry, I just can't get comfortable. This is boring," her tone was saddening, and he instantly regretted calling out of her fun.

"It's ok, I'm just not used to fidgety models. Please, do what you wish," Rose gave a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes over to the reclining chair and instantly jumped into its midst, legs swung gracefully over the armrest, back curved deliciously against the fine Italian leather, the dark brown bringing out the olive tint in her sun basked skin. She looked warm and inviting, her breathes easy and soothing, eyes closed suddenly against the world. Even the was her eyelashes swept against her lightly blushed cheeks was interesting and enthralling to Adrian.

He let a few minutes pass, a few more crawled by, and as soon as he saw the coast was clear, he put pen to paper and started his work.

Surprisingly she didn't move, not one shift in character, barely any movement in her body as he got the basic outline and form, now ready for the details. He glanced up and for a second caught himself completely in love with the girl in front of him.

With his keen eyes, he could almost see the blood work twisting beneath her skin, the little pulse that was weakening into slumber, the way her bangs shadowed her brown eyes, how her lips were slightly parted. Everything was beautiful and enticing, she was gorgeous and lovely, so full of blossoming power and so fragile with her womanly curves and hardened guardian heart.

"Hey Adrian?" he swept his gaze back to his papers as if he hadn't been staring, but answered a little guiltily, with a vague curiosity.

"Ya Rose?"

"What's it like to be free?"

The question stopped Adrian's thoughts, his eyes wandering back up to her, Rose's face now turned toward him, as if to see his reaction and gauge his answer. But the subject was so broad, free of what exactly? Of destiny, fate? Those are easy to free yourself from, just don't believe in them. Or maybe it was from life and it's struggles. Then death was the only answer, not that that was an answer he would give Rose. But the true feeling of freedom itself? What was that like?

"Well," his brush slowly stroked against the paper a small dash of a smile on her lips, curving up the way he knew it always would. "It depends on what you mean. One couldn't describe how free is unless they are free themselves. Why ask me?" his mood was darkening at the thoughts of freedom, how he always seemed to hide behind his money, or his title, and behind a bottle of Vodka.

Rose, clueless to the sudden shift in spirit, kept going, her mind simply talking out its thoughts as they came in a long string.

"Well, you have a nice house, a great future ahead of you. Everything is at your disposal, you'll never have to work a day of your life. And your paintings. All of your emotions just flow right into those colors and brush strokes. That's freedom. Waking up and knowing you could sleep all day and still be happy. That's freedom. Looking at something and getting it just cause it makes you joyful to look at it, without worrying over money, that's freedom." her breath caught in her throat and she drew in a sigh. "I would give anything to have that."

Adrian scoffed, flipping his bangs from his eye sight and drew his knee up to his chest as he spoke. "You want to be petty and lonely? That's all I have. Pictures are just color on paper, they're no friends of mine. And these things? My furniture, this entire house? I despise it! Every single piece, I despise it all!" he threw the portrait down, and it slid easily and ruffled on the tile floor, Rose sadly looking to him now.

The spirit churned like some nightmarish disease inside him, his mind was fogging and restless suddenly as he drew a breath in through clenched teeth, tiny tearlets lining his pretty eye lashes.

"Hey now, don't you dare," her scolding tone held a tender sort of effect as she got up, and came instantly to his side. "No free bird cries, they sing, remember? They sing beautiful sonnets and with you, you paint beautiful pictures, while the rest of us lay up in our cages." her hands were like hot pricks of love and lust, her blood being pulled by a strong heart, her pulse in his ears instantly as he refrained from thinking too deeply about it. But just as the heat came, it melted away, and as Adrian looked to Rose, he saw she had picked up his drawing pad. Never had one let anyone see his unfinished works. hey were terrible, they needed correcting, they needed color.

"Don't look, it's not done! Their ugly," he gave up on his pleading as she kept flipping through the pages, the crisp crinkle soft and almost melodious to his ears.

"No their not. These are beautiful. All your missing..." she gave deep contemplation, the bemused look on her face s perplexed and lovely, he wished he could remember that face to paint it later. Her footsteps came close to him as she bent down to hand him the pages, that smirk of thorns rimming her face again, some lost emotion locked up behind liquid chocolate eyes. "...is the freedom."

**-VV-**

Adrian awoke from his day dreams at that remembrance, those words picking and prying at him now as it all flooded back.

"That's it. That's what was missing," He quickly got to his feet and found the torn painting, the black lines covering most of the water colors, washing out the brown of her hair and the gold of her skin. But with a fine tipped paintbrush, he dipped the bristles into the red and gave the model crimson wings, and a yellowing halo to match. Over and over he traced the grand feathers and gave great detail to the etched folds and ripples of the wings, until he had run out of paint, and out of ideas.

"There," Adrian sighed as the passion drained out of him, the Spirit ebbing as he sat back and looked at the portrait. "I was just missing her freedom."

**-VV- **

He visited the training grounds again, hoping to catch sight of her again, but to his amazement, she wasn't running laps or doing pushups or playing fighting with her partner. Instead, she was lounged back in the soft grass, hands resting behind her head as she looked up to the sky and it's cotton stratosphere. She looked so at peace, so naturally in balance as he strode over and sat cross legged next to her.

"Adrian,"

"Rose."

She graced him a smile as she looked his way and then back up to the clouds.

"Are you thinking of freedom?" he asked, feeling a little childish at his own statement, but hoping she'd ease into another conversation.

"Nope, not really." there was another breathy sigh, a lazy one, one Adrian thought she deserved after all her years of selfless hard work.

"Then what are you thinking about?"

"Heaven."

"Heaven?" he repeated with a questionable tone, as if that was possibly one of the stupidest things to muse about. "Well, what about it?"

"Lissa once read a religious book that said that when people die, they become angels. They get their own wings, and everything." the wind took her words as if ashes in an urn and spread them about the entire field, Adrian feeling utterly empty suddenly, as if her words had opened up his soul.

"And that's what you want?" The sincerity of his voice smoothed over Rose's ruffled persona as she continued with a slight nod.

"When I get where I'm going, on the far side of the sky, the first thing that I'm gonna do is spread my wings and fly."

The words set upon Adrian as he leaned his head back and looked at the clouds too, picturing them both in some other place, under some other sky, where Rose had her wings and her halo, and her freedom all in one.

"That's some dream, Rose," He took a cigarette from his pocket and struck the match for a good spark, blowing out a string of grey, filigreed smoke as he thought deeply too. "That's some dream."

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**Yep, these two are so DREAMY together! lol**

** Hope you guys enjoyed it, please comment with ur honest thoughts and opinions if I should continue... **

** BTW, if you've written any AdrianxRose Fics, you absolutly MUST tell me! I will read them like druggies take Chrystal Meth and Cocain! :] **


	2. You're mine and he'll learn that one day

**I know I haven't uploaded in a looong time, and I apologize for that! I wasn't sure if the story was good with just one chapter, but a few people wanted more so here's another one! A little look deeper into my fave couple, AdrianxRose. Here we see Dmitri (BTW, I'm using that spelling because for some reason my computer always corrects me and it's too much work just to add one little "i". I don't even like him. I HATE him. So I don't care about his name. **

**ANYWAY! The next chapter is coming soon, and the rating will probably jump up to M in a hurry, so if you don't want to read, then don't ok? This chapter is ok though, just a little love in the last part. :) **

**Tell me what you guys like or hate or want to see. Any ideas? I'm open for anything! **

**OH! But i'm not going to post any more till I reach ten reviews. It doesn't take long people, and it helps me please you guys ok? Please, it benifits everyone in the long run! :D Love ya! You may read now!**

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After that day of cloud watching and talking of heaven, Adrian quit seeing Rose everywhere, his muse never returning as he roamed around the college campus in the early hours of midmorning, looking for anything to cure his appetite as the days grew more and more spaced out, minutes suddenly pulled apart by the seams and stretched into long, droning years.

The click, click, clicking of high heels caught his complete attention as two women walked by, his eyes of course trailing up from the beautifully arched stilettos to the constant sway of their hips in tight denim jeans. They kept deliciously in step as they talked, the blonde one over exaggerating something with her fake nails and their pretty sparkling tips. Her curls were tight and hardened by some kind of gel, unlike her brunette counterpart, whose hair was short and free, brushed gently back with a smooth, dry effect. Their figures were on complete display with lustful, enthralling movements, from the flick of their finger tips as they texted to the sensual way they sat on the bench and crossed their legs, one of them in a v neck to complement her heavy breasts, the other covered up in a slim tube top that matched her overly done make up.

They looked cheap to Adrian, but if the show was free, then why would he complain?

A sudden flash of Rose in her guardian attire, fists ready and posture fluid and lethal appeared behind his closed eyes, disappearing just as he woke from his idle thinking by the girl's boisterous laughter, one of them pointing to him, a hushed smile set on her brightly painted lips.

"Is that Adrian, the Ivashkov boy?"

"I heard he's a great painter, known for his money."

"Maybe he wants models?"

His vampiric hearing alerted him as they spoke softly, a smile of his own fading as they spoke of models. Sure they had the height, and even the looks, but nothing about them actually struck him, there was nothing that made him want to draw, no spark or burst of flame as with Rose.

To be exact, looking at those women, there was no feeling as when he was with Rose. It was so hard to put his finger on what Rose had that they didn't. Suddenly, their eyes were burning through him as he regained his thoughts and turned in parting, almost embarrassedly as if he had called out the wrong name during an intimate moment.

'Maybe I should see her? Would she want to see me? Am I even seeable?' He looked down to his clothes, of course the finest Italian suit and a red tie which was more of a red gash against the white shirt, and slid a hand through his messily, windblown locks, satisfied with himself. 'Hmm, knowing Rosemarie, she'd be at training, maybe wasting the day away without me," there was a devilish smile as he picked up his pace and ran toward the south side of the quad, hoping that she would be there as usual.

**-VV-**

He had hoped she would be resting again, just as she had that one other time, but to no luck. Instead, he came up the hill and over looked the grounds, spying Rose and that Dmitri guy who was her teacher or something, Adrian's mind couldn't really recall.

The two were tense with concentration, arms readied and waiting, whether to fight or defend, anything was open, the fight unpredictable and loose, though every movement was practiced and rough. Rose looked powerful, on top, in complete control as she ducked the Russian's deep right hook, her feet swiping out to knock him off those braced feet of his. Her lithe movements could get out of any cornering, Dmitri looking like a wall of stone and steel as he moved forward on her, too close for Adrian's comfort.

She retaliated quickly, wildly, anything to keep her from slipping from her place on top. She crossed her arms in front of her chest to block a kick he sent toward her and grabbed at his feet, pulling him right off balance.

There was a flash of a wicked grin on her face, a look of pure victory as he toppled, just as those huge hands of his grabbed her shirt front and brought her down with him. They were a sudden mess of flying hands and grunts of frustration as Dmitri tried to land the 'killer move', which Adrian knew was the moment that their little practice fight would end, the moment that he had his lips on her throat.

A sudden surge of anger crept its way hotly through his veins, heart a sudden fire of flushed beatings. He was sickened and saddened, stomach twisting grotesquely as he saw the two wrestle, at this point, Rose fighting with no style or skill, just hasty and unskilled actions to get the lumbering Russian off of her -without getting the kiss of death.

She was locked, chained, kept in line by the stronger man, her practice stake lost from her grasp and swatted from her hand, landing just out of reach.

**-WW-**

'Can't get him off...he's just too fast, it's like he can read my thoughts.' His weight was pressing against her, making it hard to push up from his thick fingers that were grabbing for her wrists, to pin her and seal her fate.

Her feet came up close to her, knees digging into his chest, prying with all her pent up strength to loosen his grip of her. It was growing terribly hot being close to him, hearts racing side by side, the sweat of his brow sopping his bangs to his forehead, those eyes so deep and attentive to each of her tiny movements, from the course of her muscles under her training uniform, to the flicker in her eyes. She was getting desperate and dirty with her fighting, and he could feel her losing her grip on the entire situation.

"Gottcha Roza." Came his dark voice from those smiling lips, the little bud of teeth coming out and latching to the base of her throat, her body going limp.

She lost. And she knew it.

Rose no longer fought, melting now to her pants and gasps from normal breathing, his body getting heavier as he bit a little harder than usual, leaving a tiny bruise like a strawberry patch for the whole world to see.

Dmitri drew up on his knees, looking over her like a true guardian with obsidian hard eyes and snarky glare. "You didn't keep calm,_ that's_ where you messed up."

"I know!" She heaved a frustrated sigh and rolled out from under his stare as he stood, shaking his head.

"Without_ simple self control_ you could never become Lisa's guardian-"

"I know! Dmitri, I know!"

"Then why are you still failing practices like this? Eddie is already shaping up nicely, practically leaving you in the dust. I thought you wanted this more?" His tone was dangerously sharp, even though seconds ago he was on the cusp of laughter at catching her, like some love sick boy in high school. Dmitri was all professional now, tossing her stake to her as she rose to her feet, a hand feeling the mark he had left, eyes downcast like a child's being scolded.

Adrian could barely hold himself back from taking on Dmitri himself, hands balled in tight, white knuckled fists, fangs bared as he threw daggers in his stares from his watching place. 'He has no right to take that tone with her. He isn't her father. He needs to back off.' His eyes passed over to Rose and softened as he saw her forlorn disposition, her shoulders hunched and sighing, eyes dulling and lifeless, worn out now as she trudged back towards her dorm.

"Rose!" Somehow Adrian had gotten her name to roll smoothly off his tongue and he loved its sweet, nectarous taste. "Rose! Wait up!"

He raced down the hill and quickly ran a hand through his hair to tame it back and out of his eyes, so easily falling in step with her, though Rose had shied from him at first.

"Oh, Adrian, God, you scared me for a sec. I didn't know it was you." She looked disappointedly up to him, raking her eyes over his fine suit and tie, then back to the empty hall that lay in front of them. Dmitri's kiss mark throbbed poisonously against her skin, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the thought of Adrian noticing, or worst, knowing what it was from. Rose could feel his eyes probing her with that artistry kind of look he always adopted around her, ever since she had let him paint her that one time.

"Adrian, don't stare,"

"I can't help it, you're beautiful." His sentences were always so painfully honest, as if he believed each word with the utmost care.

"Well don't stare at _it." _The mark, she was ashamed of the mark. And Adrian understood completely, so suddenly, that his next move startled Rose.

His arm had come up in front of her and she had turned to him to question, just as he had swiftly pressed her back against the wall, pressing his forehead to hers, her head tilted up to him with no fear, just liquid confidence in her eyes.

Neither moved. Neither spoke. Barely a breath was passed between them. Only Adrian's hands moved, slow and biding as if he wanted Rose to be able to read each of his move loudly and clearly, face turning slowly to smile down to her.

The tip of his nose brushed hers. His eyelashes tickled her eyelids as she kept them close. Goosebumps rose on her skin as he finally kissed her, though his lips only rested there a feather of a second before he brought his artfully nimble fingers to her face and turned her gaze away from him, licking his lips at the sight of that hideous red mark. His lips latched on her skin tightly, covering it completely, though there was a distinct coolness with Adrian that Dmitri didn't have.

And Rose knew what was coming next.

The swift pain, and that wonderful, ecstatic high that was to follow. His fangs were tick and sharp like a wolf's curving into her vein with a greedy lust, tongue lapping at the red river, his Adam's apple bobbing gingerly as he swallowed. The holes he had punctured were laced with a tingling feeling, the driving feeling deep and glowing inside of her as she suppressed a shiver against him.

She was floating, she was flying, she was safely secured in his arms, and everything was good.

Everything was beautifully good.

"I love you Rose." His lips were painted red like poppies as he drew away from her, her mind blank, his words simply taking sound and tickling her neck as he kissed her again as if to close the wound.

"I love you to." Her arms came around him and pressed him readily closer to her, at this moment willing to say anything to get him to love her even more. She wanted it all, everything, and anything Adrian had to offer.

There was a glint in her eyes that she recognized, but didn't care anymore.

She had seen those eyes before, and they had lead him to terrible sins.


	3. I should have never wished

**So this is the second to last apage for this story I think. Unless you guys really really want more. :) **

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I awoke with a frazzled brunette in my bed, and this time I knew her name and remembered the night as clear a crystal.

My limbs were sore and throbbing, absolutely worn out from the entire fiasco, breath coming in slow, methodic swings like a pendulum. I finally felt absolutely in balance, in complete equilibrium. The spirit was alight in my chest, threading sweet colors of whites and pinks, like blushes of passion or doves taking wing.

The thick curtains were drawn closed, the light of morning seeping in through the one crack between them, but they guarded the privy room from the heat of day. My skin was cold, almost freckled with goose bumps as I heard the air conditioner kick on, my hand grabbing for the hem of the covers and pulling them over me.

I didn't want this night to end. As my eyes closed tiredly, I smiled as my hand found the close heat of the body beside me. It was electrifying, that she was actually here, actually sleeping beside me.

I'd only dreamed about this before.

And here it was so alive and breathing beside me.

My eyes lingered open, and flashed to her as I heard the bed sheets crinkle with movement.

Her arms were curled up to her chest, chastely hiding her luscious breasts in her sleep, tanned and strong and artfully beautiful as always.

I suddenly wanted to paint her again. But I pushed the swelling emotion down and instead slithered closer to her, feeling like I was swimming in the sea of ruffled bed sheets, the mattress spread out and large with comforters and misplace pillows.

Rose was facing the foot board, legs tangled in the sheets as well, caught in their warm depths, slumbering so silently.

I traced the abrasions on her neck, tingling at the thought that I had done that to her, bitten and tasted such a delicious fruit. Her collar bone swooped low and femininely, chest taking small, unnoticed breaths as she dreamed in her high.

I had taken her last night with no regret.

I had been in too much ecstasy to say no when she had fallen into my arms and drunkenly asked if I would kiss her. Asked over and over if I loved her.

Reassuringly I said yes, and things escalated so fast, so passionately that it just happened. Like the wind blows or birds fly, it just happened.

She stirred, rolling onto her back and all I could think of was how her shoulder blades looked like budding wings, as her hand lightly fell onto my shoulder. She still felt hot from our play. I shuddered.

The curve of her hips was strong and rounded, skin brazen and silky, the folds of her hair loosening and covering the tattoos on her neck.

My fingers curled and brushed the strands away, lips falling on the inked skin and kissing them with light, feathery intentions. It was so awe-inspiring, so belittling to think that this strong woman, this bold, stone cold, roses and thorns, hearts and daggers girl could fold in on herself so easily and succumb to one of life's basic temptations. She had braved death's door, murdered in cold blood and then broke under my love.

I could have laughed at the entire situation.

I breathed her scent in, and vowed I would never love anything as much as I loved her right now. In this one moment. It wasn't something I could describe. She was my muse, no other thoughts could gather to form an idea when she was around. I wanted to paint her, wanted to press myself against her, wanted to move and be moved by the beautiful creature Rose Hathaway.

Sweat clung to her, smelling of grass and the perfume she wore, and like iron and happiness. Her lips were slightly parted, and the lines carved into them were enticing and her rosy cheeks were exciting, and I found everything so interesting about her that I could have kissed her again, just to seal this with strong conviction.

I slowly stretched up, taking in a refreshing breath of morning air before my hands fiddled with the carton of cigarettes on the night stand, lighting one with the flick of my fingers on the trigger of the lighter. I drew in a deep breath, exhaling softly and settling into a comfortable position beside my Rose.

Looking back, I wish I hadn't done it. Looking back I wished she had never woken up, because what came next was absolutely and terrifyingly heart breaking.

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**The first and possibly worst cliff hanger! 0_o I doubt anyone is still even reading this, so bla here you go. **

**I know its not as long or as descriptioned as my other chapters, sorry for that! But I wanted a stark sort of feeling before the next chapter. **

**What do u guys think? R and R please! **


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